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THE NIGHT THEY JUDGED

There were a lotof reasons for not renaming Main Street "Eugene O'Neill Drive." First, there was the matter ot O'Neill'sreputation- that of a drinker and carouser- and then there was the plainand simplefact that he "neverdid

anything for New London." Here is a record of a meeting of the City Councilof New Lon-don -assembledjust a year ago for the purpose of decid-

ing a very hot question ...

EUGENE O'NEILL by Fred Evarrts

0 As WE REMEMBER IT TODAY, THE first snowflakes of the season were fall ing on ew London, Connecticut, that morning last October when a strange historic event was on the verge of unfolding.

A minister joked privately that, considering the many years some peo-ple berated the character of this Very Important Person, it would be a cold day in hell before the local genius was honored by officials in New Lon-don.

After all, some said, hadn't it been this very character who had been

From left to right: Francis ] . Pavetti,Art McGinley, Gordon S. Tuthill (stand-ing), Dwight C. Lyman, and Jerome Sil-verstein. Mr. Tuthill presents his case for renaming Main Street to the CityCouncil in New London.

quoted as saying he hated New Lon-don? So why should New Londoners now do anything for him?

His supporters argued that he didn't actually hate the place, be-cause he wrote so much about the people living there. And as for criti-cism of him for leaving town, cou ld he be blamed for feeling that grass is

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O'Neillfans heldtheir breaths as they saw former

Mayor Thomas J. Griffin rise to speak ...

sometimes greener on the other side of the fence?

None of us knew if Eugene O 'Neill could finally "makeit" in his home-town. But an amateur astrologer seemed confident the snow was a prophetic sign something startling would come out of the meeting over O 'Neill that Thursday. Later the snow disappeared. It was cold, but not cold enough to discourage agood turnout of townspeople at City Hall.

Some residents wa iting on hard seats seemed sad it had taken so long for this particular session to materi-alize. It had been more than 50 years now from the time O 'Neill first became famous, and 19 years since the playwright had died in Boston at 65.

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Others acted encouraged that at last a decisive meeting was being called to see what the City Councilof New London would do officially, if

Former three-time Mayor Thomas J.Griffin- felt that Main Street should not be renamed, and that O'Neill had g9tten quite enough attention and sym-pathy already.

anything, to honor the name andmemory of their most controvers1al native son.

The date was October 19, just three clays after O 'Neill 's uncele-brated birthday. Even O'Neill h im-self- born 85 years ago th is October 16- might have been astounded by ac tions that night in New London.

It was no secret to those pondering the question that many decades ago some townspeople snubbed the O 'Neill family, primarily because they were theater people, born Irish Catholics. They were even known to drink when they pleased, long before the Martini Age was in vogue. Some of these seemingly insignificant things, h appening during one of New London's most colorful periods in history, helped mold the O'Neill mystique. lt influenced his personal-ity and character and, of course, showed up in his award-winning plays. Not everybody in the city seemed to appreciate the publicity!

Also, it was in the "WhalingCity"that O'Ne ill first thought seriously about writing, and later tried his hand at it. He began converting the observable facts of life into elrama. 1t was there too he started turning peo-ple he knew, especially those of his own family, in to immortal characters. Years later some of his private love letters to a girlfriend back home would be purchased by a museum.

As the years unfolded, O'Neill de-veloped into a local legend the likes of which New London had never seen before and probably never will again. Some charged him with being a drunk. Common sense dictates that if he drank anywhere near as much as some claimed he did, it would have been physiologically imposs ible for him to write so excellently and profusely overthe years. . .

O 'Neill was enjoyed or d1shked; extolled or condemned; and recalled either with esteem ordiscredit.

With or. withont New Londoner's backing and support, O'Neill went on to become the only American

dramatist to win the obel Prize for his efforts, plus four PulitzerPrizes,and the first dramatist to achieve international importan.ce. Excepting those of Shakespeare and perhaps Shaw, the plays written by the man who grew up in New London prob-ably hold the record for being the most widely translated, produced, read and taught in the world today.

Every major country in the world knew of Eugene O'N eill before he died, and many thoughtfully be-stowed honors upon him. City offi-cials in his hometown did not; but perhaps this would change as a result of the meeting.

New Londoners from all walks of life, including those who learned something about humanity from his dramatic classics, were impatiently waiting for the meeting to begin. There was a tinge of suspense in the air not unlike that created by his dramas.

Shortlyafter 7:30 P.M. Mayor Hu-bert A. Neilan banged his gavel loudly at his desk in the CouncilChamber. He smiled politely, uttered a word of welcome to those of us present, then suggested the council suspend its rules and regufations to allow anyone who desired to speak for or against Eugene O'Neill to do so.

Gordon S. Tuthill, a local real estate broker with a keen interest in O'Neill and various community af-fairs, quickly arose from his seat at the front of the room. He made a carefully prepared presentation on behalf of his committee, named by the New London Arts and Festival Committee. His remarks were fucused at renaming Main Street "EugeneO'Neill Drive," and it'was Tuthill'semphasis that seemed to set the theme for the evening. It was not only on O'Neill the famous play-wright, but also, to counter some of his reputation as a drinker and carouser, on O'N eill the human be-ing. His speech was short, but seemed well received by the city councilors,

although they kept their own thoughts a mystery.

Dwight C. Lyman, a former presi-dent of the ew London CountyHistorical Society, strongly urged the councilors to "share in the reflected glory of a former resident." Lyman spoke softly, but assuredly, saying that the new street name would pro-vide "inspiration"to youngsters who needed such encouragement, and that it would bring tourists from far and wide to the city.

Again there were no indicative comments from the council.

It was also suggested that to re-name Main Street after Eugene O 'Neill would be to settle a long-standing matter of international diplomacy, for "theeyes of the world are on New London tonight."To do so would not only serve the bestinterests of the city, but the general public as well . There would be some social and business benefits for all.

Again there were no indicativecomments from the stone-faced city councilors sitting in judgment of Eugene O 'Neill.

Arthur B. McGinley, Sports Editor emeritus of the Hartford Times and a boyhood friend of O'Neill, dynam-ically described himself as "closer to O'Neill than anyone in the formative years."He had made a special trip to

ew London just for this meeting and was emphasizing fond recollec-tions of Eugene O'Neill . .. the hu-man being.

McGinley, his voice rich with emo-tion, pointed out to the councilors that O'Neill's father was a nationally-known actor who owned considerable property in New London, and that his playwright son used his Connecti-cut experiences as the foundation for his classic writings which earned him the highest literary awards of all. It was McGinley's family, he announced proudly, who provided the inspira-tion for O'Neill's only comedy, Ah, Wilderness!

Showing a no-nonsense attitude be-fore the council, McGinley came

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Eugene O'Neill, standing precariously on a ladder, hammer in hand, is aboutto pound something into Tao House, the 22-room mansion built on a 158-acre estate in Danville, California, near SanFrancisco, where he and his wife Car-lotta lived from 1937 to 1944. "Lastpic-ture I took of Gene!" Mrs. oO'Neillpenned on the back, noting it was taken in the summer of 1943 (seven years after he won the Nobel Prize).

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"For Agnes with love- (When I joined the O'Neill Clan)," wrote Carlotta Monterey O'Neill to Agnes Brennan, one of O'Neill's favorite cousins in New London. He was fond enough of her to send a needed $300 when he learned she could not meet a mortgage payment on her house.

right to the point. "Ithas been men-tioned that O'Neillwas an excessive drinker. These reports are all too true!"McGinley asserted in his most serious tone of voice. O'Neill for years had been charged with being "thetown drunk,"and the committee to honor him had tried to smooth over this one major point of argu-ment, hurting O'Neill the most. For a moment it appeared McGinley was throwing away his case in the hushed courtroom. He stood firm, didn' t blink an eye.

With all the professionalism of a physician talking about his patient, McGinley asserted that O'Neill"foughta brave, uphill fight against alcoholism. He fought it long and hard, and in 1929 he won it. The de-termination O'Neillshowed in dealing with drinking problems was typi-cal of his life," the friend declared for all to hear.

Art McGinleymoved Quickly

Dwight C. Lyman stands in front of the O'NeillHomestead -heurgedthe councilors to "share in the reflected gloryof a former resident ... "

"Early in his career," McGinley went on to his captured audience, "O'Neill piled up rejection after re-jection when submitting manu-scripts; but he carried on in the face of any aclversi ty, and never lost his vision of becoming a great literary figure."

Maybe this was all the City Coun-cil in New London really needed to hear, and it appeared at that moment McGinley had turned the tide in O'Neill's favor.

But McGinley was not satisfied and seemed to be giving them double-barrels. He took a deep breath and continued by informing the coun-cilors that in the prevjous week he was pleased to have received a sur-prise transcontinental telephone call at his Hartford home from SirLau-rence Olivier in London, England, who was going to play the leading role in O'Neill's largely autobio-graphical play, Long Day's journey into Night , which had won a Pulit-zer Prizein 1957.

Olivier had wanted to know de-tails about O'Neill's life and style,

McGinley said. He asserted that Olivier too considered O'Neill "oneof the world 's greatest playwrights."

McGinley concluded, his voice still charged with emotion, that "anyman whose work gives enjoyment to so many people has made a great con-tribution, and I do hope New Lon-don will recognize th is man who has been acclaimed for so long!"

McGinley moved quickly to his seat, the audience applauded its ap-proval, and even the councilors, moved by the presentation, sponta-neously joined in the clapping.

It was the first time the councilors had seemed moved by a presentation, and O'Neill enthusiasts got their first inkling that they might be successful in their bid to honor the native son.

Then the O'Neill fans appeared to be hold ing the ir breaths as they saw former three-time Mayor Thomas J. Griffin rising to his feet . Everybody knew that this spunky octogenarian had for years opposed honoring O'Neill. Nobody could predict what Griffin would do, for he could be any-thing from cantankerous to charm-

to his seat while the aud ience applauded its approval91

ing. WhatMcGinley did to buildup O'Neill, Griffin was just as capable of tearing down.His opinions would be weighed carefully by his former colleagues.

Griffin, we knew, had charged many times that O'Neill was "adrunk"and "astew bum:" the news media reported it from coast to coast. Often he had been heard to grumble publicly, "Whatdid he do besides write plays?"Then, in typical fashion , answer his own question, "O'Neillnever did nothing for New London!"

Contrary to expectations, Griffin now appeared temperate and re-strained, reflecting a good-natured citizen who simply saw it his duty to speak up. He was saying that he felt Main Street should not be renamed. O'Neill had to be honored in some way, he supposed, and O'Neill lived his life the way he wanted to. Maybe something other than Main Street should be named for him - some-thing contemporary.

But if Main Street was to be re-named, it should not be for O'Neill, Griffin (a one-time court bailiff) wassaying, but rather for Thomas E. Troland, former Chief Judge of the Superior Court in Connecticut and former City Law Director in New London. Griffin could put on a pro-duction that even O'Neillwould ap-preciate, and it appeared now that he thought O'Neillhad gotten quite enough attention and sympathy. Why shouldn't he get headlines too?

In magician-like fashion, Griffin produced a "poisonpen"letter from his pocket, which he said somebody had sent to him prior to the meeting. It indicated O'Neill would be re-membered long after Griffin was for-gotten. He decried whoever had sent it to him for his penmanship! He had had trouble reading it, he declared in an annoyed tone of voice, holding it up for all to see. He added also that he disliked receiving anonymous letters, and said he would much pre-fer to meet this person face to face.

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The veteran politician was at his best as the center of attention. The press was taking notes and hanging onto his every word. For a moment O'Neill was almost forgotten; an-other Irishman was on center stage. His photograph was being taken. When he had had his say, he sat down. The filibuster was over.

Quick to Griffin's defense was City Councilor Richard R. Martin, who had served previously on the council with Griffin. Martin understandably uttered his support of the man and likewise indicated a keen dislike for unsigned letters. The two former mayors were agreeing, and nobody seemed to know where this left the O'Neillquestion.

When Martin was finished, some-body suggested the City erect a statue of O'Neill in a minipark on Cap-tain's Walk . . . a new name sug-gested in a local contest to call atten-tion to a new shopping mall on StateStreet.

Mrs. Sally Pavetti, curator of the theater collection at the world-fam-ous Eugene O'NeillTheater Center founded by George White in nearby Waterford, Connecticut, appealed politely to the councilors to rename Main Street for Oneill She told several stories, one of which was how ONeillonce loaned a friend money. At the time O'Neill's own funds were low, she emphasized, but he in-structed his friend not to think about repaying it untillong after you are on Easy Street."

Her appeal was followed by one from her husband, a local lawyer, who announced his support for the proposal of renaming Main Street for O'Neill.

In all there were only five persons who opposed the proposal, and of these, three who spoke in opposition were associated with the Savings Bank of New London, located on the street in question.

Bank President Richard L. Crevis-ton said, in a businesslike manner, that "We've done business for over

120 years from the same addresss."He added politely but firmly, "Wethink we have a right to retain that address. The bank is not opposed to honoring O'Neill, but we wish to continue lo be known as the Main Street Bank."

Joining Creviston was Attorney William W. Miner, a trustee of the same bank. He asserted that he was not opposed to honoring O'Neill, but he'd just moved his law office to the Main Street address and dutifully notified his many clients of the new mailing address. Now his problem was that he would have to notify them again if it was changed. He sug-gested a unique compromise in that the council should rename only two-thirds of Main Street, leaving the re-maining one-third (i.e., where his of-fice, the bank, and a newspaper office were located) unchanged.

Afler everyone had his say, Mayor Neilan concluded the lengthy meet-ing on O 'Neill by warning those con-cerned that "therewill admittedly be some inconveniences." He explained that when the State Route 32 inter-change with Interstate 95 and lhe re-development along State Pier Road were completed, the present Main

Street would have a decidedly differ-ent character.

Perhaps the only clue to the out-come that night was provided by Thomas F. DiMaggio, a city coun-cilor then serving his first term ofoffice and often a lone dissenting voter on matters before the council. He remarked jokingly, just moments before final action, "Art McGinley said Eugene O'Neill got rejections. Well, l get a lot of rejections on the council too, and I can support the man." He had been prepared to re-ject the proposal, he revealed later.

The moment of decision had ar-rived. Councilor Martin moved that the O 'Neill committee's recommen-dation that Main Street in New Lon-don be changed to Eugene O'Neill Drive should be accepted. Without further debate, it was voted for un-an imously and officially approved. New London's longest, most colorful and strangest debate over a simple matter such as renaming a street was happily ended. The O'Neill enthu-siasts, all smiles and yet appearing a little drained, drifted from the Coun-cil Chamberinside City Hall- out-wardly delighted over their victory at long last. + +

There's something in a name.

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